


Green Eyes

by jrml210



Series: Glassy Eyes Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Drama, Horcrux Hunting, Horcruxes, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pining Harry, Possessed Draco, Possession, Protective Harry, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12000774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrml210/pseuds/jrml210
Summary: “… But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion bottles to guard his own precious soul? ... Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred objects with a powerful magical history. His pride, his belief in his own superiority, his determination to carve for himself a startling place in magical history; these things suggest to me that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcruxes with some care, favoring objects worthy of the honor.”—Albus Dumbledore





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Please read Part 1 of the Glassy Eyes Series before continuing. Otherwise, you'll be totally lost! Xx

Late December

_Red eyes stared into the night._

_Blood and darkness was everywhere. The scent of copper filled the air._

_Screams of women and children echoed around him. Flames danced among the houses, the heat warming his pale, cold cheeks._

_Everything was so loud, so chaotic. The people were running in every direction. Parents were attempting to rescue their children. Loved ones held each other as they cried in fright. Mothers wept and fathers fought._

_But the night had just begun. They’d all be dead soon anyway._

_He’d better get to work._

_He had orders to cleanse the town. He had a job to do._

_One long white finger pointed forward. The Death Eaters behind him began to move on his command._

_He grinned. And waited for his time to strike. To silence all those screams._

_Oh, how he couldn’t wait for the stillness that silence brought during a cold winter’s night._

_A small, womanly figure began to stagger towards his direction. She was weeping and already bleeding from a wound on her head._

_His grin grew, and his palms began to glow._

_Merry Christmas to me._

_He struck._

* * *

 

 Harry sat up with a gasp, clutching his chest tight as a whirlwind of emotions scoured through him. Tears were streaming down his face again. His breath came out in cold, painful pants, like a tight band had wound itself around his lungs.

Merlin, he felt so empty and so pained all at once. He felt so lost and confused. So many images invaded his mind.

He could still smell the soot and ash from the burning houses from his dream. He could hear the screams of people and children as they tried to flee for their lives.

And he wanted to weep at all of it.

He didn’t know why he was having these dreams. He wished they’d go away.

The dreams had started shortly after the group had recovered the locket from Umbridge, when the weather had started becoming colder. It was right around the time Ron had left him and Hermione. During the worst time of Harry’s life.

Thankfully, Ron was back now. They’d destroyed the locket horcrux and found the Sword of Gryffindor. Harry had a wand again, even finicky that it was. And Hermione was still a bit irked at Ron for leaving, which Harry hadn’t expected her ire to abate overnight.

Now that they’d debated other possible locations of the other horcruxes, Harry was a bit optimistic about their mission. One step closer to defeating Voldemort. One step closer to getting Draco back safely.

But in the dark of night, it always hit him all at once.

Harry had felt their bond break that night, all those months ago. It’s been six months now since Draco had been taken. Four months since he’d felt the bond between them break.

He remembered how he’d nearly lost it all over again after that night had happened. He’d been so hysterical and worried and paranoid the morning they’d had to recover the locket. Hermione and Ron had been close to calling it quits for Harry and just gone on to continue the mission themselves, but Harry had forced himself to recover. He’d needed to go.

While the events in the Ministry had occurred, thoughts of Draco had to be pushed to the back of his mind. He didn’t have much time to worry or panic, or set out some foolhardy plan to rescue the blond, wherever he might be. And the days had passed into weeks then into months. Harry was no closer to finding Draco, but he was determined to at least find the horcruxes.

He couldn’t feel Draco. He felt nothing through their broken bond. He didn’t even know if the Slytherin was still alive. And it broke Harry’s heart so much. He’d wanted to die that first month when he felt half empty, like a huge chunk of him had been missing. Like it had just died into nothingness.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to focus on the mission, on destroying the horcruxes and winning this war. Only when Voldemort was defeated, Harry knew he’d find out what happened to Draco.

A part of him, a huge part of Harry, hoped he was alive. But another part of Harry wondered at what condition he’d be in. Harry had known that Draco had been tortured. Had he died from that? Or had he been mentally broken like Neville’s parents had?

There were so many horrible thoughts and questions that raced through his mind. That’s why he tried not to think about it.

The daytime was safe. He planned and prepared and strategized. He kept himself busy from thinking morbid thoughts. But in the dead of night, when the others were asleep, the panic and worry would overwhelm him again. Night time was when everything went quiet, and the thoughts and questions would pop back up in his mind. Harry would cry and sob and worry and miss Draco so much. It hurt every part of him, but he could do nothing about it.

What also troubled him were these dark dreams of blood and killing that he had sometimes at night. He had thought they’d been visions of Voldemort at first but it felt different. He mainly saw the dream as if through another person’s eyes, but it didn’t feel like Voldemort. At least, not entirely. It was different; new. Like something or someone had been recently reborn and Harry was watching as it took its first steps out in the wizarding world.

Harry honestly didn’t know how to describe it, but it was just one more thing he was forced to put in the back of his mind. He had other more important worries to think about. Finding the horcruxes and destroying them, figuring out who had sent the doe Patronus, finding out information on Draco, and defeating Voldemort once and for all.

Harry had to be ready. He had to be prepared if anything happened. He refused to become distracted.

So he settled back to sleep, and tried to ignore the screams and vision of red eyes that haunted him again as he slept.

* * *

 

January

 

_“…. continued reports of wizarding towns near Winchester being destroyed. Witnesses say….. Death Eaters seen raiding these areas….. searching for stray muggles …. those not of pure blood. Death toll…. up to 46. Along with werewolves and dementors…. additional dark creatures…. sworn loyalty to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named…. Reports of notorious Dark Assassin, Mors…. allegedly conducting these negotiations with vampires….”_

“Ron, will you please quiet that down? I’m trying to concentrate,” Hermione’s voice sounded from near the back of the tent.

Ron grumbled, but lowered the radio’s dial as he continued to listen to _Potterwatch_. He listened for a few minutes more, Harry half-hearing beside him, until the broadcast finished on a lighter note about keeping safe and looking out for rogue plum fairies. Harry gave a soft smile as he listened to Lee’s familiar voice.

Switching the radio off, Ron sighed as he leaned backwards against the bedpost.

“Reckon You-Know-Who’s army is getting larger every day,” he muttered, eyes unseeing towards the ceiling.

Harry frowned, staring up towards the bunk bed above him as Harry laid on his back against the mattress.

“Yeah, reckon he is.”

“Vampires now, eh? At least those bloodsuckers can only come out at night,” mumbled Ron. “Wonder how You-Know-Who managed to get them to his side, though. Vampires haven’t come out of hiding since before the last wizarding war. They highly seclude themselves from the public and they usually stay out of wizard affairs.”

Half-paying attention, Harry shrugged, keeping quiet as he picked at a stray thread on his blanket.

“Hey, but that Mors character... Heard a bit about him when I’d been on the run looking for you guys, you know,” Ron’s voice carried on in the dim lit space. “I’d been huddled in some alley, trying to keep warm, when I heard some Snatchers walking by talking about him.”

Harry still half-listened, humming absently in reply.

“I didn’t hear much, but I did manage to get that this Mors character is pretty much You-Know-Who’s new right hand man. Practically keeps to himself except for during raids and when he needs to do some negotiating for You-Know-Who. The Snatchers said he’s a brilliant fighter in action, too. Can kill, wandlessly and nonverbally, anyone who gets near him. Has some crazy red eyes, too.”

His mind was slowly filling with a blank fog as Ron’s voice droned on, but Harry’s ears perked up at that last part.

“Wait, you said red eyes?” he asked, sitting up a bit.

Ron nodded, turning to him confusedly. “Er, yeah. The Snatchers were talking about how that Mors character looked. Said they’d never seen someone like him before, all killer-like with red eyes and blond hair.”

“’Blond hair’?” came Harry’s distant voice.

But Ron didn’t notice how soft Harry’s voice had become, or the near brokenness of it. “Yeah, ‘so blond it’s white’, he’d said. Or something like that. They said the guy looked pretty eerie, like some killer kid that went after muggleborns. Only moves in the shadows. It kinda gave me the shivers, just hearing about it. Seemed like some crazy killer on the loose, but somehow You-Know-Who got control of him somehow. Dark Assassin seems fitting, I think.”

While Ron spoke, Harry’s mind was on overdrive as it drew connections. His breathing was quickly becoming labored.

No way. _No way_.

It couldn’t be.

He wouldn’t have…

“Mate?”

It couldn’t be him.

Draco would never have…

“Mate, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

It had to be a coincidence. It didn’t matter if he dreamt about red eyes, or if Draco had blond hair that could be mistaken as being nearly white. Dozens of people have blond hair.

“…Harry? Ron, what did you do to him?”

“Me?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ron’s yelling shook Harry out from his reverie. His eyes cleared, and a small headache began to bloom right behind his scar. His palm tingled.

“Harry, what happened? Was it another vision?” asked Hermione

It took a while for his head to clear fully, and he stared blankly at her for a moment until her question finally registered.

“What? Er no, it wasn’t that, Mione. I just… I was just thinking about stuff.” He tried to force a small smile. He was sure he failed miserably.

Expectedly, Hermione didn’t look too impressed. Her features did soften, however.

“…Is it Draco?” she asked.

Harry considered brushing her off, but he hesitated to do that. Both Ron and Hermione knew about his dreams at night, and how he’d used to feel his connection with Draco early on in their hunt for the horcruxes.

When Harry had first told them, Hermione had been both curious and alarmed to hear how Harry had bonded with Draco. She’d wanted to do some more research on the concept for herself, but hadn’t had time to do that just yet.

Ron had been a bit upset to hear of it at first, but had eventually given in at the reminder of how much Harry cared for the blond Slytherin. He couldn’t believe that his friend would just randomly create a magical connection with the Ferret, but even he knew not to say anything negative after Malfoy’s disappearance.

They both knew how both Malfoy’s kidnapping and the broken bond between them had hit Harry pretty hard, so it was no wonder that hesitation would rear up any time Draco’s name was mentioned.

Harry ended up giving Hermione a quick nod in reply to her question.

“I just miss him, is all,” he softly said.

Hermione frowned, but she didn’t know what else she could say. They’d run out of reassurances months ago.

But Ron was never one to like seeing his friend so gloomy. Ever since he’d returned, Ron tried extra hard to make his friends a little bit happier in this war.

“Don’t think on it, Harry. Malfoy is a natural Ferret; able to weasel his way out of any situation he didn’t feel comfortable with. I mean, remember when the git would claim how Crabbe infected him with a bout of spattergroit, just to get out of working with those blast-ended skrewts that Hagrid made us work with in fifth year.” He chuckled quietly at the memory, and even Harry’s lip twitched up at the reminder.

“Yeah, I remember. He was so awful,” Harry mused affectionately. He missed the teasing eyeroll from Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes too.

“Yes, Malfoy was always one for self-preservation,” she commented. “It’s a good skill to have during these kinds of times.”

“He’s probably in France living it up with his mother,” Ron tried to joke, patting Harry’s back hard once. “Here we are nearly freezing in the cold and he’s probably in some penthouse, wearing his silk robes and fluffy slippers.”

Hermione gave a small giggle at that. Harry smiled at their efforts.

“Yeah. That sounds like him.”

Ron and Hermione beamed, glad they could help their friend out of his musing.

Hermione was also glad for the cease in the radio’s broadcasting noise. She’d had an idea she’d wanted to run by the other two.

She crossed over to them, book in hand.

“Hey, Harry, I was thinking, and I have another theory on the Deathly Hallows….”

And Harry listened, forcing himself to push away his earlier darker thoughts.

* * *

March, Easter Break

 

_“Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. You can be sure we shall be back again. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be ‘Mad-Eye.’ Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night.”_

Lee’s voice tuned off as the radio’s dial twirled and the light behind the panel went out.

_“Brilliant,” said Harry._

_“It’s so brave of them,” sighed Hermione admiringly. “If they were found…”_

_“But did you hear what Fred said?” asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned again to one of his all-consuming obsessions. “He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the Wand, I knew it!”_

_“Harry —”_

_“Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —”_

_“HARRY, NO!”_

_“— demort’s after the Elder Wand!”_

Harry vaguely heard Ron’s voice shouting at him at how Voldemort’s name was taboo before a loud crack sounded outside the tent, and the Sneakoscope lit up on the table and began to spin wildly.

It all happened so quickly. Hermione’s wand was pointed at his face, a loud bang sounded, and then voices came from every direction as they were grabbed forcefully and wrestled outside.

They were identified with false names. Harry remembered Dean was a prisoner, and then Harry’s scar was burning, burning. Hermione was recognized. Harry’s glasses were found. They were caught. And then they were moving, Disapparated somewhere far.

Harry tried to struggle away from Greyback, but it was useless. His eyes were still puffy at least, so he still wasn’t as recognizable. Through the slit in his eyes, he saw a pair of wrought-iron gates at the foot of what appeared to be a long drive.

Where were they? Was Voldemort here? Harry felt something… familiar…

The iron was contorting, twisting itself into a kind of frightening face. A rusty voice demanded a reason for their entrance.

Then they were moving, and Harry’s eyes slowly widened and his chest began to burn as he finally realized where they were.

White peacocks surrounded the high edges around them.

Harry stumbled, disbelieving.

He was at Malfoy Manor.

 _Draco_.

He must be here.

A wave of determination strengthened Harry as they continued up the drive and up the stairs into the vast residence. Greyback’s grip on him tightened, and they were shoved through the doorway until they came to a hall.

Light spilled out over all of them.

“What is this?” said a woman’s cold voice.

But Harry didn’t pay attention to what happened next. His eyes were moving wildly, searching, searching.

He felt something…. Someone….

They were nearby. Whatever he felt, it was coming closer.

Draco, Harry thought. It had to be.

_Draco I’m here._

Green eyes flared with resolve.

_Draco, my love, I found you._


	2. Chapter Two

“Who is this?” the woman repeated, hands on her hips as her baleful eyes looked down at them. Her skin was deathly pale, with jet black hair that ran all the way down her back.

Harry didn’t recognize the woman, but she didn’t look like she was related to Draco. Was she a Malfoy? Was it his mother? Harry had heard that Narcissa Malfoy had apparently disappeared months before school had even ended.

“Move aside, _Vampire_ ,” Fenrir snarled, baring his teeth. “We’ve got Harry Potter.” He dragged Harry around closer to the woman for a better look.

“I know ‘e’s swollen, but it’s ‘im!” Scabior piped.

The vampire woman shook her head.

“I do not know of him,” she replied. “But Master is inside. Bring them in and follow me.”

Harry and the other prisoners were seized roughly and shoved up the stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits. They were then led to a drawing room with a wide chandelier that hung elegantly from the ceiling.

There were people sitting in chairs in front of a marble fireplace. Harry couldn’t tell who they were as he and the others were pushed into the room by the Snatchers.

“What is going on?” a dreadfully familiar drawl sounded. Lucius Malfoy stood from one of the chairs and looked over at them.

Harry stared at him, his heartbeat picking up slightly with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Lucius was here, at Malfoy Manor. That meant Draco couldn’t be too far away.

His eyes fell on the second figure that sat in the armchair facing away from them. Harry could only glimpse that the other person also had blond hair, but he couldn’t see their face no matter how much he strained for a look.

“We’ve got Potter!” yelled Scabior from beside him. He grabbed Harry’s face in a pinching grip. “There’s no doubt it’s ‘im, and we’ve got ‘is wand as well! Tell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

But Lucius was glaring darkly at the lot of them, his eyes barely crossing over to where Harry and the prisoners stood.

“I don’t see Potter here. What proof do you possibly have?” he drawled.

Greyback snarled. “It’s him! You’ll see his scar if you look closely!”

“That could be any kind of mark, you fool,” Lucius spat. “I refuse to waste the Dark Lord’s time over some mistaken kidnapped children.”

“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!” He pushed Harry forward until Harry fell to his knees. His hair was pulled backwards, forced to stare up into the gray eyes of Draco’s father.

Lucius was glaring at him violently. “What did you do to him?” he asked Greyback. “How did he get into this state?”

“That wasn’t us!”

“Looks like a Stinging Jinx to me,” Lucius said as his eyes raked Harry’s forehead. “There’s something there. It could be a scar. It could be nothing. There’s no way to know.”

“Just kill them,” the vampire woman from earlier said, her fanged teeth gleaming as she smirked at them. She stood near the chair where the second person was still sitting in. Her hands combed through the person’s light blond strands.

Harry glared, green eyes lighting with fire as he watched her hands move. The person sitting there… it couldn’t possibly be…

“No,” Lucius Malfoy interrupted. “We are not here to kill anyone. We must be completely sure that it is Potter before we summon the Dark Lord. Where is his wand?” he asked.

Scabior pulled it out and showed it to him. Lucius studied it carefully.

“This wand does not resemble the description given by the wandmaker,” he sneered, looking at them. “You fool, I am not about to make a mistake that will cost me my life. Not after what happened to Dolohov.”

“What about the Mudblood, then?” growled Greyback, forcing Harry aside so that Hermione was in full view instead.

Lucius glared at her harder. “Yes, I know her. Her picture was in the _Prophet_.”

Greyback’s lips stretched into an ugly, toothy grin. “Then we have a deal —”

The drawing room door opened behind them. A woman spoke, and the sound of it sent chills down Harry’s spine.

“What is this?”

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, stopping until Hermione was in her eyesight.

“Well! Surely this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?” she said.

“We think so. They say Potter is here —”

“Potter?” shrieked Bellatrix, turning back to where Harry crouched. “Are you sure?”

“We’re not actually —”

“Yes! Yes, it is! We want our gold!”

Both Lucius and Fenrir spoke at the same time.

Bellatrix turned doubtful eyes on one of the Snatchers, and then she froze. Her dark eyes fixed upon something Harry could not see.

“What is that?” her voice said. She began to walk out of Harry’s view.

“Sword,” grunted a Snatcher.

“Give it to me!”

“It’s not yorn, missus, it’s mine, I reckon I found it.”

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a red flash of light. He knew that the Snatcher must’ve been stunned.

“What —!!” cried another Snatcher.

“ _Stupefy! Stupefy!_ ” Bellatrix screamed over and over.

Bodies fell where the Snatchers had previously been standing. None of them were a match for Bellatrix and her wand skills.

Harry heard her arguing with Greyback over the whereabouts of the sword and where they’d found Harry and them. But he didn’t pay any attention.

The blond head of hair near the fireplace had moved, tilting slightly as if somewhat curious about the goings on behind him. Still, the figure did not stand.

Harry gritted his teeth, frustrated.

_Draco! Draco, can you hear me?_

He tried to send something, anything through their now nonexistent link. Expectedly, his attempts were feeble at best but he tried anyways. The blond head of hair did not move again.

“The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think of what to do!” Bellatrix was saying close to him.

Harry whirled around, seeing that Bellatrix now held the Sword of Gryffindor in her hand. Her eyes were wild, and they swept over him and the other prisoners until they landed on Hermione.

“Wait. All except for the Mudblood.”

“No!” shouted Ron behind him. “You can have me, keep me!”

The blow that Bellatrix threw against Ron’s cheek echoed throughout the room.

“Quiet! You’ll be next blood traitor! Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure.”

Then she took a short, silver knife from her robes and cut Hermione free from the others. She dragged Hermione by the hair away from them and across the middle of the floor, while Harry and the other prisoners were forced to shuffle to another door and into a dark passageway.

Harry strained to turn around, and he managed to get a glimpse as the figure by the fireplace finally stood, his blond head turning, turning…

“Keep walking!” Greyback shouted, and his grip on Harry grew vicious.

Harry’s eyes were forced away and back towards the front where him and the others were led down a steep flight of stairs. At the very bottom was a heavy wooden door, and Greyback unlocked it with a tap of his wand.

He threw them all in as one, leaving them in a musty room in total darkness. Then the cellar door slammed hard behind them and Greyback stomped away, murmuring praises to himself about tasting the Mudblood once he had his turn.

A terrible, high pitched scream sounded above them.

“HERMIONE!” Ron roared, struggling against the ropes. “HERMIONE!”

“Shut up, Ron! I can’t concentrate —”

“HERMIONE!”

Harry winced as Ron’s scream echoed in his ears. He tried to tune his voice out as he attempted to wandlessly vanish the ropes. Ron’s struggling made it difficult for him to focus, but Harry closed his eyes and began chanting.

After a quick moment or two, Harry felt the ropes fall away like water, and he turned, rubbing his wrists to see Ron jump up and run towards the cellar door.

“HERMIONE!” he started yelling again.

“Ron, Ron, we can’t see anything! Stop running around before you knock yourself out!” Harry urged to him.

His words seemed to have cut through Ron’s grief, because the redhead paused for a moment and considered.

“The Deluminator!” Ron yelled, and reached into his pocket to pull it out. A few second later, there was a click and the spheres of light that Ron had sucked in earlier flew into the cellar, hanging near the ceiling like little balls of light. The underground room was instantly illuminated, and Harry turned to look around. He managed to glimpse the faces of the other prisoners in the room, and then his eyes fell on —

“Luna!” he cried, seeing the familiar smile and blond hair. Next to her was Dean, his face bloody and battered. Griphook, the goblin, sank onto the floor, looking disoriented. Scratches covered his face.

“Hello, Harry,” Luna’s voice sounded. “Ron, there isn’t a way out. The cellar is escape-proof. We’ve both tried, Mr. Ollivander and I. He’s been here longer, though.”

Hermione’s scream echoed from above again, and the sound tore through Harry like a sharp blade. He started to shake nervously, wondering and thinking, trying not to panic.

Where was Draco?

He could feel the blond, he knew it was him that had been sitting on the chair earlier. Somehow, someway, Harry could feel it.

They needed to rescue Hermione and find Draco, and then they all needed to try and escape.

“What else did you take, what else? CRUCIO!” yelled Bellatrix above.

More screams echoed upstairs. Ron began to sob, pounding his fists into the wooden door to try and break it down.

“HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”

“Mr. Ollivander, there’s no way out?” Harry asked the older man crouched on the floor.

The wandmaker shook his head, his eyes unseeing as they stared forwards. Luna patted his hand gently from beside him.

“We tried everything, Harry. No one will be able to escape,” Luna said

Harry tried to think furiously. He thought about everyone upstairs. Bellatrix. Lucius. The vampire woman, and Draco…

“Luna, quick, tell me, have you seen Draco here?” Harry asked her quietly.

The girl frowned. “Draco Malfoy? Well, yes, but Harry —”

“You have?” he gasped, elation filling him. Luna had seen him. Draco was here.

“Harry, he’s different, though. Harry —”

Her words didn’t register as Harry stood up, walking around frantically as he searched for a hidden crevice or trap door, or something.

Desperation seized Harry.

He had to get out. He had to find Draco. They had to save Hermione and escape from here. Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed Hagrid’s pouch from around his neck and reached inside. Rustling objects aside, his hand brushed against the mirror fragment as its gleam caught his attention —

An eye was gazing at him from the mirror.

“Help us!” he yelled at it in mad desperation. “We’re in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!”

The eye blinked, then disappeared.

Harry wasn’t sure of what had just happened. He didn’t know if he just imagined an eye appearing. But he didn’t have much time to ponder it as he heard Hermione’s screaming abruptly elevate in pitch.

“How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty goblin help you? Did he?”

They heard Hermione sob a response back.

“A copy?” Bellatrix screeched. “That’s unlikely!”

“Let us fetch the goblin, then,” Lucius’ voice said. “Go get him, will you?”

They didn’t hear a voice answer back, but footsteps could be heard crossing the floor above them as they headed in the direction of the cellar.

Harry hurried across to where Griphook sat on the floor.

“Griphook, you must tell them the sword is a fake. They mustn’t know it’s the real one, Griphook please —”

Footsteps sounded in front of the wooden door. A latch unlocked.

“Step aside humans, or I shall kill you all.”

Ron hurriedly clicked the Deluminator, and the little spheres of light flew back into his pocket. Darkness covered the cellar once more.

Just in time, because the door swung open a moment later and the vampire woman from before appeared in the doorway. She glided inside, baring her fangs at them threateningly as she moved to seize the goblin. She dragged him out by his shoulder, not giving Griphook a chance to protest, and slammed the door shut behind them.

There was a loud _crack_ in the cellar.

Ron clicked the Deluminator, and light flooded the cellar once more. Everyone stared as a small figure crouched in the middle of the room.

The little elf’s small round eyes widened. “Mr. Harry Potter?” squeaked Dobby’s voice.

 

* * *

 

Red eyes looked on, unnoticed, as the Mudblood girl writhed on the floor as the Bellatrix witch began to carve into her skin with a knife.

Mors felt something like amusement fill him as he watched, leaned against the wall with his forearms crossed in front of him.

How strange, he mused. The witch was using a dagger that had been drenched with the essence of hemlock. A reasonable poison that might’ve ensured lasting curse damage against the victim’s skin, but rather capricious compared to baneberry, which would’ve entered the girl’s bloodstream and poisoned her from the inside out.

But Mors decided against educating Voldemort’s favorite witch. The woman was wily and crafty in her services, but she was a bit too mad for his own liking. He instead chose to study the woman’s efforts carefully, glimpsing the bloody letters that now decorated the girl’s forearm.

Interesting placement, thought Mors, darkly amused. Bellatrix was quite passionate when she operated. He had to commend the woman for her ingenious artwork.

A slight shift in air happened beside him.

“I want a taste of her,” came a silky voice. The vampire woman cooed at the sight of blood on the elegant tiles. “Her, or the redheaded boy. He smelled delicious. Heartbreak always tastes the best. Maybe I’ll have him watch as I suck her dry.”

Mors said nothing, keeping his eyes fixated on the scene playing out in front of them.

“The Dark Lord will be here, soon,” the vampire purred. “Daylight is approaching. I shall take my leave.”

Mors tipped his head in response.

The vampire chuckled darkly. “Ever the quiet one,” she teased, and she raked the sharp nail of her pinkie against his pale, unblemished cheek. “Until I hear from you again, beloved Master.”

With a whisper of air, she vanished from sight. 

The sound drew the attention of the Mudblood girl, who whimpered in pain as Bellatrix finished the last letter upon her skin.

Brown eyes looked over at the figure standing in the dark corner, and they widened almost comically.

Red eyes looked curiously at the girl, pondering the spark of recognition that had entered the girl’s eyes. Mors wondered if the girl perhaps knew him. Had he killed her family in another town? Maybe he’d accidently missed one.

A shuffle within his mind distracted him. Mors looked inward to check on the boy with whom he shared his body with.

The boy still lay frozen on the ground from earlier, glassy eyes blank as they stared straight ahead.

“… here.”

The dark being frowned. He moved forward to listen better.

“… here.”

The boy was whispering to himself. How odd.

“… He’s… here.”

His frown deepened. What was happening? Mors thought he’d broken the boy’s will a while earlier. The boy had been so distraught at seeing that young girl’s blood during the last raid. Why was he speaking again so soon?

“… here… Harry… here…”

Curiosity filled him.

Harry? Who was Harry?

Unless.

Mors had no time to ponder. A loud, roaring yell was sounding from the real world.

The dark being lurched forward from his cognizance, leaving the whispering boy behind in its depths.

Red eyes opened, and Mors looked on as a redhead boy burst into the drawing room. His disruption was soon followed by chaos as numerous spells were cast from every direction.

He absently noticed the tall Malfoy collapse under someone’s stunning spell. Jets of light continued to fly everywhere as the three teenagers in the room struggled against the werewolf and the Bellatrix witch.

Mors felt his annoyance rising.

So loud. Everything was too _loud_. He wanted silence.

Craved it. Killed for it.

A scream sounded. Something broke.

 _Too much noise_.

Red eyed glowed with irritation. He stretched his palm out.

“ _Stop_.”

Abruptly, the multiple spells froze midair. The redhead boy also grew still, helpless to watch as the Mudblood girl’s unconscious body flew back into the direction of the older witch. Bellatrix caught her, and instantly pulled out a short silver knife against the girl’s throat. The tall Malfoy man that had collapsed earlier was quickly revived, and everyone watched as he struggled to stand up next to the hearth. Fenrir growled from his position behind the dark-haired witch.

Mors lowered his hand.

Finally. Silence.

But then movement drew his attention behind the sofa, and Mors looked on as a boy with wild black hair stood. He stared horrified in Mors’ direction.

“Draco?” came the boy’s feeble, shaky voice.

Mors realized at once who the other boy was.

Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The boy who was prophesied to defeat his Master Voldemort.

Mors grinned malevolently, stepping forward so that the light shown upon his flowy, snow white hair and pale skin. His red stare gleamed with triumph as they met the boy’s frightened green eyes.

 _At last, after all this time_.

“Potter,” his deep, captivating voice purred. “It’s so very nice to finally meet you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”


	3. Chapter Three

_Red eyes._

Harry felt helpless as he stared at the figure across the room. White hair gleamed, its paleness stark against the black, fitted robes that Draco was wearing.

No.

Not Draco. _Mors_.

Ice flooded Harry’s veins.

_Draco, what happened to you?_

“Drop your wands!” Bellatrix cried from the middle of the room as she pressed the blade into Hermione’s throat. Beads of blood began to spill. “Drop them! Or we’ll see exactly how filthy her mud blood is!”

Harry’s mind raced. “No! We’ll do it,” he said, and he dropped her wand onto the floor. Ron did the same with the wand he’d taken from Wormtail. Both raised their hands up in surrender.

“Good!” she leered. “Lucius, pick them up. The Dark Lord approaches!”

Harry knew her statement was true because he could feel his scar close to bursting. He could sense that Voldemort was drawing near, and he’d soon be close enough within Apparating distance. They were trapped with no way out.

“Now,” said Bellatrix, as Lucius walked over and grabbed the wands from the floor. He moved to stand nearby, wands in his grip. “I say we should tie the boys back up; while Greyback, you can take the girl. You’ve earned it, I think. Now that Harry Potter is looking all better again, we should lock him in the cellar for when the Master approaches —”

“No,” Drac — Mors spoke from near the side wall. “Potter is mine.” His eyes were fixated on Harry.

Bellatrix gaped, surprised. “But, my Lord —”

Red eyes swiveled over to the witch, quelling her words instantly. Harry and Ron watched with quiet alarm as she shrank back under the commanding stare.

“As you wish, Lord Mors,” she uttered softly. Then she motioned for Fenrir to grab Ron, while she pressed the blade harder against Hermione’s neck as she moved backwards.

But a peculiar grinding noise sounded from above, and everyone looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier give an ominous tremble. Then with a loud creak, it began to free fall.

Bellatrix screamed, dropping Hermione as she pushed herself away in the other direction.

The chandelier crashed to the floor with an explosion, crystal glass shards flying everywhere and cutting into the dark-haired witch’s face. Fenrir was sliced in a few places, as well.

Ron and Harry hurried to act. The redhead dove to save Hermione from underneath the fallen chandelier, pulling Griphook from the wreckage as well.

Harry raced over to Lucius, wandlessly stunning the blond again and grabbing the wands from his grip. He heard a growl behind him, and Harry turned to point all the wands towards the werewolf as he flew towards Harry. A stunning spell was on the tip of his tongue but before he could utter a word, the werewolf was lifted into the air. His body flew high up towards the ceiling and then dropped to smash face first into the ground. His body lay unmoving.

Alarmed, Harry whirled around in question. But a pale hand locked itself around his throat and Harry felt himself being shoved hard into a nearby wall.

Harry let out a gasp as his breath escaped him. His grip on the wands started to slack as he choked, and his chest began to burn from lack of air. He strained to look forward. Red eyes in a familiar face filled his vision.

Draco. _Mors_.

“Harry Potter,” Mors breathed, his voice sweet and cool against Harry’s face.

The voice sounded so much like Draco’s, Harry wanted to cry.

Mors’ hand clenched tight on his windpipe and black spots began to fill the corners of Harry’s vision. “Oh, how I’ve heard so much about you.”

Harry struggled to take in a breath.

“D-Draco,” he gasped, his free hand clawing at Mors’ grip.

The dark creature chuckled, loosening his grip slightly. Killing the boy so soon was not on his list of things to do at the moment.

“The boy whom you speak of no longer exists, I’m afraid,” Mors purred with a dark smile.

The unusual malevolent expression that spread across Draco’s features terrified Harry. No, no this wasn’t Draco. This monster may be wearing his face, but the intent in those eyes reminded him that it wasn’t his Draco who was speaking.

“Wh-What happened to him?” he gasped out.

Red eyes gleamed humorously.

“He was weak,” Mors said simply. “I’m taking over his body for the time being, as he is no longer in a state to care for it himself.”

The words sent a chill within Harry. ‘ _Taking over his body’_? What did that mean?

“What did you do to him?” Harry demanded. A sudden wave of willpower and fortitude came over him at the thought of Draco trapped inside his own mind.

“I’m merely doing him a service,” came the dark, charming voice. “His aunt and uncle had a fun time with him, playing all sorts of games that made him scream. His body eventually became a shell without a soul. So I decided to move in, so to speak. It has very nice amenities,” Mors added, parting his lips. His cool breath wafted over Harry as Mors began to wetly lick his tongue against the other boy’s cheek.

Harry shuddered in revulsion. His heart ached at the thought of his blond love being in so much pain.

He should have saved him when he had the chance. He should’ve gone after him. Why had Harry abandoned him to this horrible fate?

“Wh-Why?” he asked, partly to himself. He tried to glare straight into the other boy’s red eyes. “Who are you? What do you want with him?”

The dark creature in front of him smirked.

“You know who I am, Potter. You know what I am; why I exist. Stop fooling yourself.”

And Harry began to tremble.

“No,” he whispered, disbelieving. His eyes began to well with tears. “ _No_.”

Mors’ darkly charming smile grew. “Yes, Harry Potter. I am He. I have been reborn inside of a living human, and this boy’s body is mine now. Your precious lover died a short time ago. There’s nothing left of him.”

“N-No, that’s n-not true…” Harry’s voice was shaking so much.

The white-haired creature pressed against the boy’s chest, and Harry flinched in revulsion at Drac —Mors’ body touching his.

 _Nononono_ , this was so wrong. This couldn’t be happening.

Pale lips parted against Harry’s cheek and he winced at the cool, sweet air brushing over his skin.

Mors even smelled like Draco; his honeyed, rich and musky scent. It was wreaking havoc on Harry’s nerves.

“Oh, Harry,” Mors breathed, his voice sounding like a wishful longing. It rattled Harry. “Oh, how I’ve wanted you, Harry Potter; ever since I first felt your connection with Draco, so long ago. I’ve yearned to have you within my grasp. I’ve obsessed over you. Wished to see your skin belong to me, wished for your blood to flow because of me.”

Harry whimpered, trying to turn away. Mors gripped his throat harder in warning.

“I want to kill you, Harry Potter,” the dark being hummed unconcernedly against the skin of Harry’s neck. “My only desire is to be the one that gets to take you apart, to break you; have you become fully mine. Then once your green eyes are empty and after you’ve begged me sweetly, I’ll grant you mercy and give you a swift, clean death; one deserving of a true, fallen hero such as yourself.”

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes. They spilled over and soaked his cheeks with salty tears.

Mors eyed them lustily, and Harry felt so violated by that feral, hungry stare.

“P-Please, let me go,” he gasped out. Harry was utterly horrified at the words that came from Draco’s mouth, Draco’s body, Draco’s voice. But those weren’t his eyes; Harry tried to focus on that.

Mors began to growl, loosening his grip on Harry as he began to move slowly backwards and away from him.

“I’m taking you with me, Harry Potter, to a place where you’ll be —”

But a sudden scream interrupted them, and then Mors’ body was magically shoved away from his as it was thrown across the room. Mors hit the far wall with a thud, and he collapsed.

Harry was finally able to breathe again, and his hand flew to his throat with terror as his eyes roamed the room for the source of magic that had saved him.

“You must not hurt Harry Potter,” the tiny elf, Dobby, squeaked.

“How dare you!” Bellatrix cried from where she’d fallen on the floor, wandless. “How dare you defy your masters. Kill him!” But there was no one left to help her, as they were all unresponsive around the room.

“Dobby has no master!” squealed the elf. “Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Then the elf reached out, and Harry seized one of his hands while Ron held the other, his grip on Hermione and Griphook tight. They spun on the spot as they began to Disapparate.

As he turned, Harry caught one last view of the drawing room: the frozen figures of Lucius Malfoy and Fenrir on the ground, the malicious red eyes gleaming angrily at him from across the room as Mors quickly recovered, and a sudden blur of silver as Bellatrix’s knife flew towards them —

Harry tried to concentrate with all his might on his destination. The pain in his head, which had grown steadily worse the longer he’d been at Malfoy Manor, grew piercing. He felt Dobby’s hand jerk suddenly in his. Confused, Harry gave a warm squeeze back. Then they were falling….

Solid earth hit them, and Harry instantly recognized the scent of salty air and beach sand. Harry fell to his knees, letting go of Dobby’s grip. He squinted around, glancing over to where Griphook, Ron, and Hermione should be.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Dobby, are we at the right place?” His eyes peered into the dark. “Dobby?”

No one answered. He turned around, seeing the little elf’s figure standing mere feet from him.

“Oh, _no_ , DOBBY!” he yelled. The elf swayed slightly, and Harry quickly hurried towards him, catching him in time before he fell.

They both looked down at the hilt of the knife that protruded from Dobby’s chest.

“Dobby — oh no, please Merlin no — HELP ME!” he screamed in the direction of the cottage.

But the dark stain of blood grew, and the light in the elf’s eyes began to dim.

“Dobby, please, no, stay with me, don’t die, please —”

The elf’s eyes moved until they fell upon his, and his lips trembled as Dobby smiled at the boy who cried for him.

“Harry… Potter…”

With one last shudder, the small elf grew still. His eyes went glassy and his chest became unmoving. He passed his last breath.

And Harry screamed.

 


	4. Chapter Four

He wished that it was all some sort of horrible nightmare.

It was a childish thought, but Harry was feeling entirely selfish at the moment. Rightfully so.

For an instant, Harry yearned he had the power to turn back time. He wished he could go back, to happier times, and prevent all of this from happening.

But it was no use.

Draco was gone.

Mors was possessing his body now.

And Dobby…

“Dobby… _Dobby_ …”

Harry was sobbing into the sand, head crouched low as he covered his ears against the sounds of rushing waves.

He’d never forget this. He’d always hear the sound and see the waves, and remember.

Dobby. Draco. Both of them. Gone.

A long moment passed before a different sound registered to Harry. He looked up and saw Bill, Fleur, Dean, and Luna all rushing towards him, gathering around as Harry knelt over the fallen elf.

He vaguely registered that Ron and Hermione were not near him.

“Hermione?” he asked them.

Bill stood closer to him, peering over Harry’s shoulder. “She’s inside. Ron took her in. She’ll be alright.”

Harry nodded in response.

He looked down at Dobby, stretching out a hand so that he could pull the blade from the small elf’s body. He took off his jacket, covering Dobby.

And then Harry stared blankly out at the waters, unhearing as the others talked, discussing matters that he couldn’t care less about.

Pointless. It was all pointless.

Harry gazed down at the tiny body, his scar prickling and burning.

In one part of his mind, he felt his connection with Voldemort flare up. He saw Voldemort punishing those who were left at Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord’s rage was terrifying. But it was nothing compared to the red eyes that gleamed from the corner of the room, watching on as the others were tortured. Those red eyes promised a painful, gratifying killing.

Harry shuddered, and the vision ended.

“I want to do it properly,” he spoke up.  “Not by magic.”

Harry ignored the others as he wandlessly conjured a shovel and set to work on digging a grave in a place that Bill showed him at the end of the garden. With every drop of sweat and every blister, Harry’s teeth gritted together with pain — an emotional, mental kind of pain that threatened to grip him tight and never let go. Harry wanted to concede and give in to the anguish. He should’ve. He only had himself to blame about everything.

Draco had warned him. He’d wanted to run away with Harry. He had told Harry how scared he was and Harry had promised that he would protect Draco. They’d made a vow. They were supposed to have won the war _together_. They were supposed to have come out on the other side, holding hands, traveling the world, buying a cabin.

Harry’s scar burned.

He felt it, yet was apart from it. The pain in his heart was more overwhelming. And he deserved it.

Harry failed Draco when his love had needed him most. The one person he loved more than nearly anything in the world, and Harry couldn’t save him from this damn war.

Who cared about the thousands of others who counted on him to save them?

Harry lost everything. He’d lost Draco.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Harry thought he’d been consumed by grief with Sirius, but this felt worse. His grief for losing Draco, then Dobby…

He tried not to think. He just dug, deeper and deeper. He shoveled hard into the cold, solid ground, forcing his limbs to move through the physical pain in his chest. With nothing more than the sound of his movements and the rushing waves in the sea to drown out any other noise, Harry just kept moving.

He thought of Wormtail, dead because of his unconscious act of mercy for Harry…. the life debt…. Voldemort killing someone in the cell of Nurmengard…. Mors’ threat against him…. the sword of Gryffindor.

Anything but their deaths.

Eventually Harry finished digging and he went over to the wrapped elf. He still ignored the others, but was grateful at Dean’s kind gesture of placing a hat over Dobby’s head.

He placed the small elf into the grave, and tried to overlook at how utterly still he appeared lying there in the dirt. He climbed out. Harry tried to force himself not to break down and start sobbing right then and there as he looked down into the grave. He bit his lip and clenched his fists.

Then Luna began to speak from beside him. Her words washed over Harry in soothing waves as she spoke. It was a short address towards the elf, but it made Harry smile a bit all the same. He swallowed as everyone began to say their goodbyes. Then he watched as they all slowly left toward the cottage, leaving Harry alone standing in the dirt.

He lifted his hand and began to work on the head stone.

 

HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF

 

Half an hour had passed by the time Harry was finally ready to enter the living room of the cottage. Mostly everyone was sitting there, including Ron and Hermione, as they listened to Bill explain the current events that were happening.

Harry insisted they speak to Griphook, then Ollivander, despite Bill’s protests. They needed to start moving — do something. Anything except think, and remember, and regret not running when he’d been given the chance.

Harry, Ron and Hermione followed Bill upstairs to the goblin’s room.

 

* * *

 

It was slightly odd staring into eyes as red as your own. But Mors didn’t mind the Dark Lord ordering him about. He’d created Mors after all. His Lord wanted an eternal existence, and he’d granted the gift of life to Mors for a short time until he would need it for himself. Mors wasn’t in a position to refuse or escape with ideas of his own. He was perfectly acceptable with that.

Except when it came towards Potter.

The Dark Lord wanted Potter killed by his hand. Mors didn’t like that. Not at all.

He wanted the boy for himself.

Mors didn’t quite understand the reasoning for this outright desire for the boy. He wanted to see him die.

He wanted to see his blood spill as he writhed with pain. Or pleasure. Both.

He should’ve been concerned at this mixed dilemma, but he didn’t dwell on it. Mors wanted Harry Potter for himself, and damned if he was going to find Potter and give him to the Dark Lord for his master to have fun with the boy instead.  

“I cannot depend on any of the others to find Potter, so I entrust his capture to you, instead,” the Dark Lord had told him shortly after he’d finished torturing those who’d been left to live. “Bring him to me alive.”

Mors had been pleased at the order. He’d grinned inwardly while the Dark Lord had left and the others recovered around him. A mantra began to set deep within him, repeating over and over in time with the steady beat of his cold heart.

_Mine mine mine mine mine._

Mors set to work immediately, using the body of the boy whom he was sharing with to access his memories of Potter. He was determined to find the Chosen One first before the Dark Lord. And when Mors eventually did, Potter would be his for the taking.

 

* * *

 

“Damn it!” Harry cursed loudly as he stormed outside. He hurriedly passed the garden, including the reddish mound of earth that covered Dobby.

Ron and Hermione quickly followed him as he stalked towards the beach, muttering and cursing all the while.

“Fuck! What are we going to do now?” he yelled, whirling at them. “He moved whatever was in Bellatrix’s vault into Malfoy’s! How the hell are we supposed to break into that?”

The other two frowned, glancing once at each other before facing Harry again.

“Draco must have told Him of our plan,” Hermione began to say softly.

Harry instantly glared at her. “No. I know he didn’t,” he said firmly. “How could you even think that he would do that?”

Ron took offense on Hermione’s behalf and rounded on Harry. “Hey, mate, she was just saying what we’re all thinking. How else would You-Know-Who have known to hide whatever the horcrux had been out of Bellatrix’s vault? Don’t be getting upset with Hermione.”

“Ron, just leave it —” Hermione tried to say. But the boys ignored her.

“I trust Draco,” Harry told him, his eyes narrowing at the redhead. “He wouldn’t have told Vol-Him anything. Not with the Vow he’d promised to Dumbledore.”

“Which probably died with him,” Ron argued. “Malfoy could have sold us out without even thinking about it, mate. You’ve got to admit it. No one else knew about the horcruxes outside of us, except for him.”

“He was tortured, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “I don’t think he would’ve meant to…”

“You’re really quick to think he betrayed us,” Harry spat at them, his heart thumping wildly. “I know you two never really cared for him. But I did. I love him. And I know he would never betray us.”

“I’m just saying, maybe it wasn’t his intention to —”

“Stop it! You’re mental if you think I’d believe you. He didn’t do it. You-know-who must have found out some other way.”

“Mate, just listen —”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry interrupted quickly. “What we need to figure out is what to do now.”

“At least we know where it is,” Hermione said, trying to soothe Harry with her tone. “We can research ways in how to break into Gringotts. We also know that the Elder Wand is also important to You-Know-Who.”

“Gregorovitch had the Wand a long time ago,” said Harry. “He used it to become more powerful. Then Dumbledore dueled Grindelwald and beat him, and he took the Elder Wand.”

“Dumbledore had the Elder Wand?” Ron gasped. “Then, where is it now?”

“At Hogwarts.”

“But then, let’s go!” Ron said urgently. “Let’s get it before You-Know-Who does.”

“No,” Harry spoke. “We’re too late. He already knows where it is. He’s there now. But that doesn’t matter, anyway. Dumbledore didn’t want me to take it. He wanted me to focus on getting the Horcruxes.”

“Fat lot of good that’s getting us,” Ron said furiously. “We have no leads to where the rest are and the one that we do know of, we have no idea of how to get it. We could’ve already been at Gringotts by now if it had just stayed where it was. Hermione had a piece of Bellatrix’s hair…”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I know. Shut it, Ron.”

“It’s no use arguing,” Hermione said firmly to them. “We need to make a plan. Let’s take a break for tonight and then talk about it in the morning.”

She grabbed Ron by his sleeve and slowly pulled him away. The redhead turned to her with a frown, but he saw the look she was throwing at him and he sighed. He turned away and began to walk sullenly back towards the house without another word to either of them.

Hermione looked over to Harry, who refused to face her. He resolutely looked out into the ocean.

She sighed softly and strolled slowly over to his side. Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Harry, I saw Draco —”

“That wasn’t him, Hermione. That wasn’t Draco.” The tone of his voice brooked no argument.

Hermione frowned at him. “It looked like him…”

“It was Mors. He took over Draco’s form.”

“I don’t understand.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as they stared out into the vast waters. “It was Him. He did something, I don’t know how but Tom is somehow possessing Draco.”

“Like with Ginny?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

He shook his head. “Differently. He calls his form Mors. He’s the one who also broke the bond between Draco and I.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. “How could he have done that? Taking over another’s person’s body for a long amount of time. It must be extremely dark magic.”

Harry shrugged in reply.  

“And Draco… is he…?”

“He’s still alive, Mione,” Harry said determinedly, his voice hard. “I know that for a fact. I felt him back at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry had doubted before in a moment of weakness, but he knew the truth deep within his heart. His bond with Draco may have been broken, but another different sort of tether that held them together was still strong.

“Do you think there’s a chance…?” Hermione asked him hesitantly.

“Yes,” Harry said with conviction. “Draco is somewhere in there. I have to figure out a way to bring him back.”

“You’re not going to go on some wild chase back towards the Manor —”

“No, Mione,” he assured her. “I… I know where I need to put my focus. I need to destroy all the horcruxes. Once I do that and I defeat Tom, his hold on Draco should vanish.”

Hermione still looked unsure. “I don’t know, Harry.”

“He’ll probably come looking for me, anyway,” Harry said, not listening. “Mors mentioned he wanted to kill me. That means that I won’t have to go searching for him. He’ll want to come after me himself.”

“What will you do if he tries to kill you?” she asked.

Harry gave a rueful grin. “I think it’s pointless to plan that out, Hermione. None of our plans work anyway. I’ll just have to hope that Draco is still somehow in there enough to not let that happen.”

She looked carefully at Harry. “Do you honestly believe Draco is strong enough to fight whatever is possessing him?”

Harry paused.

After a moment, he said, “Ginny did. I did.” Harry looked at Hermione. “And he can. I know it.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, both assessing, before Hermione turned away first.

“I believe you, Harry,” she said. “But You-Know-Who is after the Elder Wand, and we have no idea where the other horcruxes may be —”

“Hogwarts.”

Hermione paused. “What?”

“It’s just a feeling,” Harry admitted. “But it’s a strong one. I feel like we need to go to Hogwarts.”

“Harry, why on earth…?”

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he said furiously, shaking his head.

“How could we even get in there?” she asked him. “Snape is Headmaster now, and he must have protections all over the place.”

Harry frowned, hesitating. “I-I don’t know.” It felt like it was the only thing he could say. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know if this was a good idea or not. He didn’t know if there would be a horcrux or any information about it at Hogwarts. “We don’t have any other leads,” he pointed out.

Hermione frowned and shook her head.

“I’m still not sure about this,” she said softly. “Let’s talk to Ron. In the morning. We need to rest and think about it overnight.”

Harry nodded reluctantly, watching as Hermione walked away towards the cottage. He stayed where he was, looking out over the ocean waves. The scent of sea salt stung his nose and his skin. He refused to move.

There had to be some way to convince them, Harry thought to himself. He contemplated for a few moments.

Then he took out his moleskin pouch. He reached inside and pulled the broken mirror glass from inside. He looked at it. The glass was blank.

“Please,” he whispered to it softly. “Please, I need your help again.”

There was no movement. Harry waited.

But after a long while, Harry felt his composure crumple a bit. His eyes began to sting.

“Please… I need help,” he gasped brokenly. The hand holding the shard began to shake. “Draco… Dobby… I failed them.” His chest heaved a sob. “Please, I need to do something!”

The glass piece flickered. He gasped.

“Help, please! I need a way into Hogwarts,” Harry cried.

More movement came from the mirror. Then an image appeared.

Harry had to squint to see what it was. His eyes grew round as he read the words that came into view.

Hog’s Head.

They needed to go to Hogsmeade.


	5. Chapter Five

He was silent as he moved through the shadows. The air was frigid and still. The numerous Dementors took no notice of him as he went and in turn, Mors ignored all those who passed by. He continued his way until he was finally in the village, where the dark being could overhear whispers that broke out through the silence; mutterings of an alarm that had sounded several hours earlier. One word drew his attention.

“… _Potter_.”

He paused, and listened as Death Eaters spoke about sightings of the Chosen One near an area of Hogsmeade. Two others were spotted near him. The Patronus of a Stag was also sighted, confirming that it was indeed the Boy-Who-Lived who moved in their midst.

His dark smile gleamed in the dark as he listened to them. At last. Potter was here.

 

* * *

 

A dark cloaked figure stood in the distance, waiting for Mors as the dark being approached the great, high gates of Hogwarts. Inky black hair fell in front of a pale face. The Headmaster was frowning deeply as his shadowed eyes met Mors’.

The being smirked crookedly.

“Hello Headmaster,” Mors purred. He could tell the older man was discomfited.

Indeed, Severus Snape’s eyes narrowed at him.

“My Lord,” he stated expressionlessly.

Mors licked his lips. “I’m honored that you’re greeting me in the flesh. So to speak.” He gave a deep chuckle as he practically tasted the distress in the man’s cloudy aura.

The former potion’s master clenched his teeth. “Quite.” He paused to take out his wand at his side. “I’m here to report that I have neutralized the threat inside the castle. The students are in their dorms and are not to be harmed.”

Mors gave a leer. “Why, of course.”

“Potter is in the castle.”

The dark being’s grin grew, and his focus moved slightly passed the Headmaster. “Excellent.”

“I will be lifting the wards momentarily so that you may enter.”

Mors was barely listening. His heart began to thump faster at the mere thought of seeing those green eyes again. The memory of them had the cold blood in his veins racing. He vaguely wondered if this was the emotion of excitement that he was experiencing. He often felt pleased whenever he gazed upon a village he’d destroyed. He’d followed orders completely, and with it came a sense of satisfaction that would momentarily ease his dark lust for blood — a small price to pay when dealing with dark magic.

But this level of excitement was overwhelming. It thrilled him. Filled him with a frenzy he could barely control. It was almost primal, his need for Potter.

With a swish of Snape’s wand, a sharp disruption of magic broke Mors from his vague musings. He felt the magic of the castle lift for a moment as Snape allowed him to briefly cross over. Mors began to walk onto the school’s grounds.

A low whisper, however, made him pause.

“I am sorry I have failed you.”

A sudden ache began to form in his chest. He felt a fleeting sense of melancholy and longing for his old potions professor’s support.

“ _Severus_ …”

His mouth clamped shut. Red eyes burned as the dark being struggled to maintain control.

Mors considered turning around to face Snape but after a pause, he shook the sudden urge of emotions away. He continued forward, ignoring when after a long moment, the older man finally Disapparated.

_Dammit, he was running out of time._

His movements were swift and direct as Mors infiltrated Hogwarts. There was hardly anyone around. After a few turns in the halls, however, he quickly recognized several Order members that were still roaming around the castle. Mors gave a soft growl at the thought of the Headmaster not being quite truthful about taking care of them. But it didn’t matter. They would all be dead soon.

Mors paused in a shadowed nook as he considered where the boy may be located. He tried to use what little knowledge he had obtained from his host to figure out where he might be.

The boy could be in the Gryffindor Tower. Or the Great Hall. Or he could be flying on the Quidditch Pitch since the bloody Gryffindor was always going out there to let out steam…

The being became still as he heard someone approach. He wandlessly and silently cast a powerful disillusionment charm as he quickly slid behind a wall. He peered over to see a group of three figures stroll by. Two girls and a boy. Could’ve been an easy take down since they were practically defenseless. Their wands weren’t even brandished. Such easy prey.

Their voices grew loud as they approached his location. Mors listened as the two girls argued with the third person of the group.

“…. needs his space, Ronald. We can all take a short rest before we continue our search for the rest of them.”

“All I’m saying, Mione, is that we can’t stay here for long. Even with the Carrows taken care of, if You-Know-Who learns where we are hiding —”

“Come off it, Ron,” the second girl scoffed. “He’s got bigger problems to worry about than some school. We’ve been using the Room as our headquarters for a long while. It feels good to finally take a break and safely walk the hallways again.”

“Easy for you to say, Gin. If you only knew that Harry was only going in there to mope…”

“He’s mourning in his own way. We should leave him to it, and gather supplies and research while we have access to the Library.”

“…bloody research while I’m not even taking any classes…”

Their voices and sniggering trailed off as the group continued their way further down the hall and out of view, not even a bit alert to his nearby presence. Fools.

Mors waited a few more moments before stepping out from behind the wall. His smirk grew deadly as he replayed the trio’s conversation in his head. The boy was in the Room.

Mors could only guess the significance of what that meant. It must’ve been the same place that the dark being often saw whenever he visited the inner mind of his host. Draco Malfoy also referred to his mental hideaway as the Room, which was a replica of its original that lay on the seventh floor. Mors fully expected Harry to be there.

As he grew closer towards his target, Mors had to move quickly and efficiently as he navigated through the halls so as to avoid the Order members. He considered taking them out as he went, but he chose to continue on his path due his hurry to reach his target. It would also be a waste of time. The Order members and any one of the Light side were all due to die soon as his Lord raged war upon them. Blood would flow in the next coming months.

With countless dark beings on his master’s side, and the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts within his control, there was nothing that could stop Lord Voldemort now. Except for the threat posed by Harry Potter, which Mors was to eliminate in just a moment, anyway.

The shadows in the halls were effective in hiding him from view as he hurried through the castle in search of the boy. When he finally reached the seventh floor, he briefly paused.

A recollection of walking past the wall several times came to his mind. He felt bemused at such an amateurish method of opening a secret room.

He paced the required three times, and waited.

Nothing happened. The vast, blank wall didn’t change.

Mors frowned. His small amount of patience was quickly growing thin. His eyes began to glow.

Maybe he should track down those other three from before and torment them for more information.

 _I need the Room that Harry and I share_.

A loud crumbling sounded from the wall. Mors saw a door emerge from the previous empty wall beside him, and he turned to face the doorway that lay in between him and his fate.

Red eyes glowed deadly and bright with a deadly luminescence that wasn’t there before. His teeth spread into a wide grin. His blood raced and his heart sounded loud to his ears.

Mors had never felt so _alive_.

He reached for the door handle and walked in.

 

* * *

 

Harry was waiting inside the room, sitting on the small loveseat sofa with his back facing the door. He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen when he’d first arrived in the Room hours earlier. He hadn’t known if the Room of Requirement would’ve constructed some new room for him, or given him the hideout that Dumbledore’s Army had used.

Expectedly, the Room gave him exactly what he needed. His and Draco’s room looked exactly the same, all down to the tiniest detail of the titles of the books that lined the bookcases.

Even almost an entire year later, the very appearance and aroma of the room felt to Harry like he was coming home. His heart had ached particularly hard when he’d seen the bed, then the silk cushions on the floor, and then the sofas. Every object in the room had his heart pounding with longing.

If only he and Draco had never left. If only they’d stayed in here when they’d had the chance.

Harry let himself a brief moment as he tried to recall instead the happier times he and Draco had had in the room together. The practice sessions, the long talks into the night, all the lovemaking they did, the bond that they’d shared.

A pang shot through him at the bittersweet memories. But they fueled him. It was the only spark of fire that was lit within him, driving him to keep on moving.

Harry knew that he couldn’t give up. He had to act. He had to keep on going. For Draco. For all the muggleborns and muggles who were being prejudiced against. For all those who had already died or those who were continuously suffering because of this stupid war.  

He had to defeat Voldemort and all his horcruxes. He was the Chosen One. He couldn’t give up now.

A slight noise behind him alerted Harry of another’s presence.

He kept still, only moving to slide his hand slightly away from his side. With a quick flick of his wrist, he could quickly disarm his opponent.

But a slight and out-of-place whimper that came from the entry way confused him, and Harry turned to see a hunched-over figure leaning against the door post of the room.

The figure gasped and coughed, his white hands clutching at his own throat as he bent over and slightly choked out air.

Harry stood from the couch quickly, raising a hand toward the unrecognizable figure.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Harry demanded.

He’d expected Ron or Hermione, or someone from Dumbledore’s Army. Hell, he’d even considered that Mors might’ve found him at last….

“N-N-N-No…” the figure spoke brokenly.

His younger self might’ve hesitated and shown mercy to anyone who’d appeared frail.

But after wandering for months in the cold, unforgiving woods and hardened from a year of running from Voldemort, Harry was battle ready and he stood firm as he narrowed his eyes at the intruder. His green eyes blazed. He raised his hand higher.

“I said —”

“ _Harry_.”

He froze.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. In that tone. Saying his name like that.

The hunched figure slowly straightened and the light from the room finally revealed a head of blond hair.

Harry grew tense as he finally became aware of and recognized a ploy being played by Mors. He kept his hand in position.

“Mors. I expected you to come after me. I didn’t think you’d come so soon —”

“ _Harry_.”

His tone was soft. Familiar.

Green eyes began to widen.

Then the figure looked up and green eyes met liquid silver. Time seemed to stand still as they gazed into each other and a moment passed before the blond broke out into the softest smile Harry had ever seen. Tears sprung into Harry’s eyes.

“ _H-Harry_ ,” the other boy’s voice said hoarsely. Weakly. But the blond spoke with an inner strength as he forced his words out. “Harry, it’s m-me, Draco.”

And the blond’s smile was so free. His eyes were so clear. Harry’s heart felt alive. His chest grew warm.

Grey eyes stared back at him with shared understanding.

“Finally, I found you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in chapters being updated. Life and college classes got the best of me. But at last, Part 2 is finished! Part 3 will be very short, with Part 4 to follow soon (and will be much longer and focused back on our boys as they fight against Voldemort together). Hope you continue to be a part of Harry and Draco's journey! Stay awesome! Xx

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are welcomed! Please tell me what you think!! Xx


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